


Holmes, Mycroft Holmes

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Series: #MystradeStoryTime and other Twitter nonsense [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Happy Ending, James Bond References, M/M, cut, gone wrong, hurt!Mycroft, leg work, no death or sadness here, wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: Paia_Loves_Pie thought a great thought and I have a-stolen it.Mycroft is doing legwork undercover as a spy and his intel is faulty. He gets in a spot of trouble. Greg finds him bleeding in an alleyway.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: #MystradeStoryTime and other Twitter nonsense [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1397485
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117





	Holmes, Mycroft Holmes

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [福尔摩斯，麦考夫·福尔摩斯](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174062) by [shelphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelphy/pseuds/shelphy)



> Disclaimer: This was written in a stream of consciousness at 5am after a 9 hour work shift and hasn't been checked over because meh

Mycroft grimaces and tries not to grunt as he slides down the wall. The floor of the alley he has ducked into is filthy but he cannot care right now. If he was in one of his three piece suits it may have been another matter, but he happens to be in some all black cargo gear for… reasons. Classified reasons. Reasons who could find him at any moment and now he thinks he would not be able to do anything about that.

All there is to do is keep quiet. Wait it out. Help will come eventually when his people realise he is missing.

He should not be on this mission alone. He should not be on this mission full stop. Leg work was behind him now, but he somehow let the mission get personal. He is a changing man with new found emotions in a relatively new relationship and he is still learning himself, but he still shouldn’t have let this happen.

He allowed MI5 to tempt him into being a spy again like in a bloody novel and now he is bleeding out on the disgusting floor of an alleyway of all places.

The classification of the mission meant that the fewer people who knew the intel the better. However, the intel itself turned out to be faulty and a lone mission with no inside information whatsoever is bound to go tits up. It did. It is.

“Shit.”

Mycroft exclaims quietly yet suddenly as he catches himself falling sideways. He didn’t realise he was losing consciousness until the ground was suddenly closer than he wants it to be. He pushes himself back upright carefully and his side twinges.

He checks his left side where he had been stabbed by… something that definitely shouldn’t have been stabbing anything. A piece of jagged plastic ripped from a broken box he remembers.

He is bleeding more heavily than he predicted which means either something is wrong with his head or the wound is deeper than he realised. He runs his eyes over his surroundings and learns much more than he ever wants to know about the rubbish of the London populace. Definitely the latter.

“Shit.” He allows himself again as he pushes his palm hard against the source of all the blood. Then he freezes and stiffens which causes him to grimace again. A noise at the mouth of the alley has his senses on high alert, listening to anyone who may have come back to harm him again while he can’t defend.

A shuffle. A scrape. A breath.

Mycroft holds his.

“Myc?”

Surely it isn’t…

“Mycroft? That you?”

It is.

“Gregory!”

It comes out in a relieved rush and it hurts but Mycroft really doesn’t care right now. Greg is here.

“How did you know I was here?” Mycroft asks, although it isn’t really the first thing he wants to say.

Greg is suddenly lit up in front of him by the light of his mobile phone’s torch. He is grinning. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Mr. Bond.”

“Sherlock.”

Greg shrugs. “Maybe.”

He runs the torch over Mycroft’s body and his grin turns into a worried frown as soon as he finds the culprit to Mycroft’s incapacity.

“Mycroft.” He says again, gently yet admonishing.

Mycroft shrugs. He shouldn’t have. Greg’s frown deepens.

“This is bad, Mycroft.”

Mycroft can’t deny that when Greg gently lifts his hand away to see the damage and it just causes the blood to continue leaking from him. Mycroft stares at it. “Yes, it is quite.”

Greg places his mobile on Mycroft’s leg to free his hands and starts to remove his jacket and then his shirt.

“What-” Mycroft begins to ask but understands when Greg pushes the now wadded up shirt against the wound and presses Mycroft’s hand back over it harder and with a hushed apology. “Ah.”

“We need to get you to a hospital. Car’s that way.” Greg points in the direction he came from. “Not far.”

Mycroft nods so Greg grabs his mobile in his right hand and tucks himself under Mycroft’s right side to help him stand. They make it after a count of three but Mycroft gasps and passes out for a second before catching himself which causes them both to stumble back into the wall.

“Shit.”

Mycroft swearing is like a myth. It simply doesn’t happen. “That’s twice now.” Greg laughs, trying to keep Mycroft in high enough spirits to reach the car.

It works. Mycroft knows what he’s doing and he very much appreciates it. “Three.” He corrects. “Sorry you missed it.”

“You can make it up to me later.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Not like that, you devil.”

“Hm. Yes. Not tonight, then.”

“Cheeky.”

“Perhaps.”

“Get in, you ridiculous man.” They finally reach the car and Greg helps Mycroft into the back seat rather than forcing him further round the car to the passenger side. Although, it is more like he unceremoniously drops the man into the car. “Shit. You okay?”

Mycroft giggles. “Shit.”

Greg bites his lip against the battling feelings of humour and concern. Mycroft’s definitely losing blood and becoming delirious.

He closes the door on Mycroft once he knows the man isn’t going to hurt himself further. He jumps into the driver’s seat and flicks on the flashing lights. Of course he came in his police vehicle to rescue his idiot damsel in distress. They speed off to the hospital.

Greg keeps Mycroft talking the whole way there to make sure he stays conscious (he won’t say living because he’s going to be just fine). There are a few bumps and turns that make Mycroft wince and groan but he remains alert as they arrive in A&E.

The doctors assure Greg that Mycroft isn’t dying and probably won’t need surgery, and assure Mycroft that Greg made the right choice anyway as the wound needs cleaning and stitching properly and with haste.

Greg asks about the giddiness but Mycroft answers before the doctors. “That’s just me, dear.” At Greg’s confusion, he clarifies. “Perhaps my excitement was a little extreme considering the circumstances but I was very much relieved to see you, Gregory, and that plus the adrenaline made it very easy to joke once you gave me that to focus on instead of the pain.” He smiles and holds a hand out for Greg to take. Despite the dried blood still on his hand Greg takes it immediately. “Don’t be so worried. I’m fine.”

The doctor nods and smiles when Greg raises an eyebrow to them before accepting Mycroft at his word.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Greg grins again. “But only if I can be your Bond girl when you next go spying.” He doesn’t hold back since he knows Mycroft can sort out with the doctor later if they plan on eavesdropping. 

Mycroft chuckles, mouth closed, his eyes twinkling. He squeezes Greg’s hand. “No more spying, I think.”

“No?”

“Although the thought of you as a Bond girl may do things to me that are best kept secret, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Was it a good idea before today?”

Mycroft gives him a look. Greg knows he’s being a little unfair with that one.

They each squeeze their hands in answer instead.

They smile.

“Idiot.”

“I thought I was James Bond.”

“Same thing."

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what happens if this wound was to actually happen to a person. I just wanted Mycroft to say shit. #sorrynotsorry


End file.
